


the distance between us

by Anonymous



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Complicated Relationships, F/F, Future Fic, Hopeful Ending, Starting Over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29519862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Champagne flute in hand, Rebekah found herself moving forward.(Archive 2013)
Relationships: Elena Gilbert/Rebekah Mikaelson
Kudos: 7
Collections: Anonymous Fics





	the distance between us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magisterequitum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterequitum/gifts).



> written for magisterequitum's excellent prompt rebekah/elena, in the future
> 
> although i watched episodes here and there in later seasons, the last time i watched regularly was season two, so my grasp of/respect for canon after that point is up in the air. be advised.

It was like she hadn't changed at all.

Elena Gilbert. Standing in an obnoxiously picturesque gazebo, her hair twisted up behind her head, her dress white and her sneakers dirty. She was smiling, and Rebekah realized with a jolt that she'd never seen Elena smile like that. Admittedly it had been two hundred years since she'd seen Elena, but- though she'd deny it in polite company - her memories of every moment spent with Elena were crystal clear. She'd never seen this smile.

She wondered who else had. She wondered if she'd just been late to the party, or if this was something wholly new.

Champagne flute in hand, Rebekah found herself moving forward. _This is stupid_ , she thought, and found nothing in her that disagreed. But somehow she was still moving, finding her heels on the white wooden steps, her eyes glued to Elena as she cocked her head and laughed, one hand touching her mouth in a thoughtless and graceful gesture. Somehow she was still seventeen - awkwardly placed shoulders, lanky and relaxed legs, smelling like a perfect promise of perfume and skin - but smoothed, refined, just a touch of age weighing down her shoulders.

Maybe that was it. Not the smile, but her eyes. Older or not, there was something peaceful there that had been missing when Rebekah knew her. She was standing in the sunshine, ring heavy on her finger, and she grinned like a jubilant child and wrinkled her nose, full of self-effacing elegance.

Rebekah remembered the Elena she'd known last - or no, not the girl in the bar, bitter and too slick and self-contained within her rage and hurt to touch, the girl she'd known in the car and the diner. The girl who was smooth and nasty and always had a perfectly vicious remark on her tongue. The girl who tried to hurt you like your pain fed her more surely than blood or air or food, like she was spilling pus and bile that had poisoned her for a million years out free in every gesture.

Rebekah suddenly and sharply missed her. She knew the impulse was ugly. But she also knew that with that girl she had a place. With this Elena, soft and warm and chuckling, things were more complicated. When that girl looked at her with all-knowing disappointment, it was a dagger Rebekah knew how to field. It was a weapon. When Elena looked at her with disappointment, whether it was the girl in her jeans and sweaters with her bruised mouth and tired eyes or this girl in her lace and cotton dress with what looked like rubies in her ears, Rebekah felt small and dirty and desperately inadequate, and she wanted to cut Elena's heart out of her chest just to make it _stop._

She stopped stock still.

God, what was she doing? What she needed to do was turn and around and walk away. Vampires ran into each other throughout the ages, that was just something that happened. They could give each other a polite nod or have a chatty welcoming meetup in a coffee shop - or a hot clinch between sheets - or they could just walk away. Klaus had never adopted that method, either he enjoyed you or you died, but it wasn't beyond Rebekah. She was a little more rational than her brother. She could turn on her heel and leave, hopefully never see Elena Gilbert again.

She'd left Mystic Falls behind her a long time ago.

Before she could, though, something about her approach caught Elena's attention. Maybe it was the creak of boards when she'd caught herself and stopped. Maybe it was Rebekah's silhouette in Elena' peripheral vision. All she knew was that Elena paused, her head graceful on her long neck, red drops of her jewelry dangling by the smooth brown column of her bared neck. And then she turned.

And they were looking at each other, confused and scared. The man Elena had been speaking to departed, dipping his chin briefly to Rebekah.

No, Rebekah was imagining things. Elena looked at her flatly, lips parted, a tiny furrow appearing in her brow. She caught her breath and then said, carefully, "hello."

Rebekah mustered up a sharp smile. "I didn't expect to see you here," she said. "I didn't think this was your type of venue."

Elena caught her breath, annoyance flickering across her face. She almost turned away, but then stilled. "I like silence," she said finally, voice controlled. After a moment she added, "Jeremy's daughter started this foundation."

Rebekah was abruptly and sharply silenced. She folded her arms across her chest, feeling the delicate lace on her dress press against her arms. "I take it you're a board member," she rushed to fill the silence with, infusing her tone with sarcasm.

Elena shook her head, surprising Rebekah a little. She wouldn't really have thought poorly of Elena for it. Sometimes there were limited ways you could interact with humans you cared about as time went on; sometimes exposure to one generation hobbled a relationship with the next. Although the Gilbert family had to be in the many-great-grandchildren era by now.

"No," Elena replied. "This is all theirs."

"How'd you score an invitation, then?" This time Rebekah genuinely hadn't meant for her tone to be so combative.

Elena smiled tightly. "How did you?"

Rebekah gave a short, derisive laugh. "Our family is on the 'must have' list of every city's gentry," she replied, deliberately patronizing.

Elena opened her mouth, eyes hardening, and then she hesitated. The silence stretched, crawling under Rebekah's skin, as Elena gave her a long strange look. She pressed her lips together and Rebekah wanted to twitch watching it, wanting to demand a reaction, wanted to reprimand her for so discourteously staring.

And then Elena smiled and it was awkward and rueful and lopsided and Rebekah caught her breath. "I compelled my way in," she said.

It surprised a pleased laugh out of Rebekah. "Watch yourself," she said. "I could call security."

Elena smiled and looked out over the lawn. "I know," she replied, and the aching sadness in her tone caught Rebekah in the gut.

"It fades, you know," she said, taking the last step and joining Elena in the gazebo proper.

Elena looked at her, startled.

"You'll find a way to get to know them again," Rebekah elaborated. "Or you'll find a way to let them go," she added softly, though she couldn't imagine Elena Gilbert doing anything like that. She'd never known how to let go.

Elena smiled faintly and bitterly and ducked her head. "I'm pretty obvious, huh?"

Rebekah shrugged.

"You know..." Elena spoke quietly, blankly, meanderingly. "I thought of you as scary, as kind of vulnerable...I didn't really think of you as insightful."

"Thanks," Rebekah snapped automatically. She checked herself. "I mean - "

"Don't worry about it," Elena said. Rebekah caught an elusive sweet flicker of a smile on Elena's face. "It's refreshing. Everyone I've talked to lately has been human or...new in my life."

She turned to face Rebekah, limned by the setting sun. "You know," she said finally on the edge of a hesitation, "it's actually nice to see you."

"I'm surprised too," Rebekah responded before she could stop herself.

Elena didn't even flinch this time. "I know that we didn't get along," she said slowly.

Rebekah shrugged one shoulder. "You know, once or twice," she said, and then stopped and fell resentfully silent.

Elena shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said. Her voice was so soft, so smooth. Elena always seemed to know what to do. Elena made friends, and Rebekah rebelled and bristled against her kindness. Because what the hell did one human girl know better than Rebekah, who had lived a thousand years through every pain and joy the human mind could know?

"I mean," Elena continued, and hesitated. "I know that we....when we went to find Katherine - "

Rebekah lifted an eyebrow.

"It wasn't a good time for me," Elena said quietly. Rebekah wanted to say something but bit her tongue. There was a new, quiet maturity in Elena's voice as she talked about, an adult calm that was unfamiliar but oddly reassuring. Rebekah finally just settled on nodding.

"But I'm glad, now, that I had you with me then."

Rebekah had no earthly idea what to say to that. She licked her lips instead, and Elena smiled oddly and continued before she could query further, glossy lips quirking.

"Did you really like me better that way?" she asked, and Rebekah thought she saw something in the black flicker of Elena's dropping eyelashes. She opened her mouth, then closed it.

The _yes_ should have come, easy and hurtful. But she couldn't make it come out. Switched Elena was safer. But Elena, here, feeling and lush with light and emotion and questions, was the Elena that Rebekah _wanted_ to stand next to, wanted to touch so bad it hurt. She wanted to deny it - and she'd desired Elena then, too, she could admit that now, Elena with her long legs and glossy snarling smile and blank, impenetrable gaze - but she did. There were only so many stories you could tell yourself before the house of your own illusions fell in on itself.

And two feet away from Elena she didn't want to take a step away from her. Because maybe it was stupid - Rebekah was always the girl who fell too easily for her own cruel hopes - but Elena was looking at her intently, and the curve of her breast looked succulent and bitable against the white of her dress. Elena's mouth flustered Rebekah too thoroughly to even think about.

"I don't know," Rebekah finally said, hedging her bets.

Elena's lips curved. "Well, it's better than the alternative," she said wryly. "Because I don't ever intend to turn it off again." Then she seemed to catch herself. "Not that I - I mean, I don't expect you to - "

Rebekah laughed, and Elena ground to a halt. Elena, flustered, was an oddly freeing sight. Rebekah had startled and alarmed and worried Elena before, but with threats of violence and intimidation. She dared to think maybe Elena was stammering over how they were a mere arm's length away and how Rebekah - in the red dress she knew looked snug and short and fantastic - seemed attractive.

"I'm in the city for a while," she replied lightly. "You?"

Elena relaxed a little. She closed her eyes and let a breath gust out, shaking her head slightly as her lips twitched. "I've been here for four years," she replied. "I usually make ten my limit."

Rebekah nodded in understanding. "Fair," she said. "You wouldn't believe how much compulsion is necessary for even half a human lifetime in a place."

"I don't want to think about it," Elena said dryly. "That much cold-blooded strategy was always more Katherine's skillset than mine."

"Don't underestimate yourself," Rebekah said. They were smiling at each other.

They'd drank together from the same tremorous, sweat-damp body in a chaotic nightclub. They'd sat in a car on a long road trip, turned to each other and the road, exchanging biting insults and surreally rational conversation. They'd lived together in the same house - Rebekah still remembered waking up to Elena on her bed, stretched out and watching her, hair spilling near-black in the pre-morning gloom over the covers. Elena had stabbed her in the heart. Rebekah had splashed gasoline liberally and gleefully over Elena and held the match high. Between the two of them, it was a miracle they'd survived even the friendship Elena had denied.

"Hey," Elena said, looking at her sideways, smiling again. It was the new-old smile, warm and huge and full of dimples. "Want to get coffee?"

Rebekah felt stupid and young and full of those old promises. "Yes."


End file.
